


The Quickening

by kronette



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Chivalry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is set near the end of "Chivalry", where Methos took his first head in 200 years. Quickenings affect Immortals in many ways, but Methos is 200 years out of practice. Luckily, the Highlander was nearby to lend a hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quickening

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at slash with a pairing other than B/G. It goes without saying then that this was my first HL slash. Originally posted in 1996 under my other pseud, Shelley Wright.

_Stupid young fool. He deserves to lose his head,_ Methos thought, sparing one glance to Duncan's back before he swung his sword and took Kristin's head. The sword slipped out of his fingers as the Quickening began. Oh, he had missed this. A short gasp as his head was thrown back. Another as pure energy surged through him once. Twice. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as the Quickening surged through him, reveling in it, drowning in it. Sparkles of energy filled him, igniting every nerve ending, and he dropped to his knees, panting. The energy slowly faded, but he remained on his hands and knees, sweat trickling off his chin, eyes unfocused. He lifted his head to see Duncan still standing with his back turned to him. "What are you still doing here?" Methos rasped, hauling himself to a kneeling position.

"I wanted to make sure you were all right," came the soft answer.

 _Chivalry. For me._ "Worried about me, are you? I assure you, there's no need..."

Duncan whirled around, facing the older Immortal. His face was a stormcloud of emotions. "Of course there is! You haven't taken a head in over 200 years!"

"Thanks for reminding me," Methos drolled, using his sword to raise him to his feet. His body was still tingling from the after-affects of the Quickening, and now...now...

"What is it?" Duncan moved closer to the older Immortal as he swayed.

"Nothing!" Methos snapped, though he knew exactly what it was. After 200 years of no Quickening, his body had forgotten how to deal with it. Now, he felt the hardness growing in his jeans, and bit his lower lip to keep from groaning.

"Methos, are you hurt?" Duncan asked, brow furrowing as he saw the strangest look cross Methos' face. A mix of lust and anger, of desire and pain.

Methos only managed a short laugh. "No, I'm not hurt. Just out of practice." He could feel the younger Immortal's presence, and it set his blood pounding again. The fire in his soul; the passion of the young. This time, the moan did escape.

"Methos!" Duncan tried to catch him as the Ancient dropped to his knees again, his arms encasing the thinner man. The slight chest was panting hard under his arms, the heat radiating from the Immortal's body was nearly unbearable. Duncan grew dizzy, inhaling the sharp scent of Methos, of Ancient, of Time.

Methos smiled wryly as he felt himself surrounded by the Highlander. His blood was racing, his skin tingling from the Quickening, his erection hardening from Duncan's closeness. His hand moved to Macleod's arm around his waist, clutching at it fiercly. "I'm all right, MacLeod. Surely you remember your first Quickening?"

The younger Immortal blinked, remembering. Astonishment, quickly followed by the energy coursing through him. And then... "Methos," he queried huskily, "Are you telling me..."

Methos' slender hand captured one of Macleod's broader ones, and slid it down between his thighs. There was no mistaking the hardness, or the shiver that swept Methos' body as the Highlander touched him.

Duncan's breathing escalated, his body's reaction taking him by surprise. His erection strained at Methos' back, and the older Immortal felt it, even through his broadcoat and jeans. Eyes closing, he leaned back to the Highlander's touch, his hand over Duncan's, encouraging him.

"Duncan, please," Methos whispered, showing the younger Immortal just where to touch him, how to tease him. He shifted in Duncan's arms, settling the Highlander's erection under his ass.

"Methos," Duncan growled, his eyes closing as the Ancient Immortal's Quickening began to affect him. His broad hands began to move, caressing Methos through his jeans, causing the other Immortal to jerk in his arms.

"Duncan," Methos rasped, turning quickly in the Highlander's arms. Ancient eyes bored into much younger ones, and Duncan nearly lost himself in Methos' gaze. Sure, strong, wild with passion and the Quickening, their color bouncing from green to gold to a color unlike anything the Scotsman had ever seen.

Duncan didn't even have to speak. Methos' mouth was on his in a heartbeat, skilled lips parting his, expertly slipping a nimble tongue inside the hot mouth. Duncan groaned, allowing himself to be pushed backwards to the sand as Methos took control, the force of the Quickening strengthing him.

Methos' hands held Duncan down, rubbing down his muscled arms, stroking his hard chest through his clothing. Methos's slender body slid over the younger Immortal's, resting his groin right at Duncan's, their erections hard against the cloth that held them.

"Duncan, I want you," Methos growled in the Highlander's ear, biting the earlobe sharply. "Let me take you."

"Och," Duncan squirmed under the older Immortal, arousal flaring through him. "Aye, take me," he whispered, his accent thickening as he lost himself to desire.

Methos stole a hand inside Duncan's jeans, brushing at his thick erection. Duncan thrashed his head, his hair flaring about him as his ponytail came undone. Methos' free hand caught the thick strands, curling the hair around his fist as he plundered the Highlander's mouth again, hot, hard, demanding.

Duncan's hands worked at the Ancient Immortal's jeans, nearly ripping them as he tore them open, the thick erection bouncing out into his waiting hands. Pumping him furiously, Duncan arched his back as Methos repayed him in kind, working the Scotsman's erection with his free hand.

Soon, they were thrusting against each other, both of them covered by Methos' long coat, hiding them from the world. Methos came first, and came hard. Shuddering, moaning, he spurted his seed into the other Immortal's hand, squeezing Duncan's erection hard, causing him to come a heartbeat later. Panting hard, Methos kissed the Scotsman, mouthing the strong jaw; licking at his neck. He had dearly missed Quickenings, at least what came afterwards, that was for sure. His face lit up in a grin which Duncan caught.

"What's so funny?" he murmured huskily, rubbing at Methos' abdomen lightly.

"Oh, nothing," Methos whispered, trailing his fingers through Duncan's long locks. He stared hard at the other Immortal, his eyes cloudy. "Are you all right?"

Duncan sighed. Right now he felt too good to be angry; hell, he felt too good, period. "I think so," he answered, though Methos caught the merest hint of hesitation in his voice.

"I had to do it," Methos explained, softening his words with a kiss.

"I know." Duncan looked deep into those ever-changing eyes, and sighed. "You know, chivalry might be highly overrated."

"Och," Methos groaned, rolling off of Duncan, laughing. "One of us has to keep a code, MacLeod."

Duncan rose to his feet, stripping as he did so. "A code of ethics? Surely not you," he scoffed, grinning. He walked to the water, diving into its coolness.

Methos watched the Highlander, the taunt muscles working under the shining skin. The moon cast a silvery tint to his skin, and Methos caught his breath. Quickly tossing off his clothes, he joined the Scotsman in the water.

"This is freezing!" he yelled, shivering as he raced from the ocean.

Duncan laughed, taking his time emerging from the water. "Five thousand years, and you're afraid of a little cold water?"

Methos shivered into his clothes, shooting the Highlander a glare. "That is hardly cold. That is glacial! Look at me! I have goosebumps." He stopped dressing and chuckled. "I still love that phrase. Do you know who invented it?" Strong arms wrapped about his still-wet chest, hugging him to another wet body.

"I don't care," Duncan's burr whispered in his ear.

Methos sighed, leaning back into the Scotsman's embrace. "Does this mean you don't want to hear the story of ..." his query was cut short as Duncan turned him in his arms, devouring the older Immortal's mouth.

When they were sufficiently breathless, Methos murmured, "So, where do you want to go?"

"Hmm?" Duncan pulled back, staring into those eyes. "You don't have a place," he reminded himself.

Methos tilted his head, smiling roguishly. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do," Duncan answered with a grin. "Come back to my place."

Methos looked up at the sky, then shot a coy glance to the Highlander. "You talked me into it."

"Good." Duncan gave Methos one last kiss before hurriedly dressing. The night air had chilled him, but he knew that the Immortal would know ways to warm him up. A wicked twinkle lit his eyes as he wondered just how many ways Methos would know after five thousand years. He shivered.

"Cold?" Methos' strangly accented voice murmured in his ear. Long arms wrapped around Duncan's torso, and a very warm body pressed against his back. "I know lots of ways to warm a body up."

Despite himself, Duncan chuckled. "Are you a mind reader too?"

"I'm Immortal, Duncan. Not psychic." Methos gave him a squeeze, then waited patiently for the Highlander to finish dressing. MacLeod could feel the heavy weight of the Ancient's stare on him, and it set his blood racing again.  _This is better than a Quickening,_ he thought, as he turned and walked beside Methos to his car.

The End


End file.
